


Gone

by AsagiStilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Beacon Hills is a Beacon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek Leaves Beacon Hills, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Leaves Beacon Hills, sbbh, sterekbingo, sterekbingo2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 05:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14663838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsagiStilinski/pseuds/AsagiStilinski
Summary: Reasonably, he knew he should have expected this, sooner or later, he knew that he would have to leave that hellmouth of a town, he just... expected it to be on his own terms, and not because of some magical crap-hurricaneEven knowing that it would have to happen eventually, it didn't make it hurt any less when it finally did





	Gone

**Author's Note:**

> I have such mixed feelings about the "Leaving Beacon Hills" trope, on the one hand, realistically, everyone needs to get out of that hellmouth, and also it's a pretty great boat for angst, but at the same time there's just so much there that would be uprooted that I have a hard time finding a good way to write it, hopefully this works well enough
> 
> Largely inspired by "This Town" by Clare Bowen and Chip Esten https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEuoRu5MEKQ

Stiles had probably never been so quiet

He knew that it was unnerving, both to Derek and even to himself, but he didn't know how to be anything else right now

He felt so listless and empty, "depressed" wasn't anything close to an accurate description

Stiles had _been_ depressed, he had been depressed over _several_ long bouts of his short life and this ...

This didn't feel like depression, it felt like mourning

It felt like he was experiencing a death, and he reasoned that in some ways, he was

He had lived in Beacon Hills his entire life and now it was just... gone....

For him, atleast, it was gone

He could never go back, he knew that

It pained him, it haunted him, it cut him down to the deepest core in his body, but he knew better than to argue with it

So now here he sat, subdued in a motel room, staring out the window at the rain that drizzled down the frame

He wasn't sure what he looked like to anyone who might come up on this scene, but he also couldn't bring himself to care

He had lost one of the most important things in his life and there was just something about that that carved a hole- no... a _chasm_ \- deep into his chest

And he kept spiraling there, over and over and over again, it felt like

There was no change, no getting better or easier or used to it, it was just.. there...

Things were happening around him but he seemed to be watching them play out on a movie screen in front of him, rather than living them himself, where he had no ability to interact with any of it at all, no ability to change anything....

And that was probably the worst part of all

The helplessness, the pure and utter helplessness, the inability to make his own choices, the pure constriction of the cards he had been dealt

He had no choices to make, no decisions to ponder over, things were the way they were and he would have to live with that

He didn't get a say, he didn't get to choose how to handle consequences that had just been... laid at his feet with no prior warning

Well, alright, that wasn't _entirely_ true he supposed, he did get SOME waning, the problem was it wasn't a warning he could have very well obeyed

He didn't want to leave Beacon Hills, as much as he hated that town and all that it had put him through sometimes, he didn't actually want to leave it, he didn't actually want to make his home somewhere else...

Nowhere else would ever truly be his home

His mother was still buried in that cemetery, his father had promised to leave but.... the destruction that would take on his life, from the job to the house to the moving... even though Derek insisted on paying the expenses, nothing would help relieve him of the stress

His old highschool was there, and even though he hated that place for the most part, he still had his initials on a shelf there

There was still part of him there, like it or not, and there always would be

So how could he really... _want_ to leave and never go back?

He suddenly became overly aware of the fact that the shower was no longer running, rushing to wipe the tears off of his face as he heard the door to the motel bathroom click open, a slight change in the air followed as steam rushed out of the bathroom and he felt a chill forming across his arms from it

Derek was quiet

He didn't speak

Stiles wasn't sure if he was trying to be respectfull of him or if he was just as sullen and heart-broken as he was, but considering the amount of times that Derek had left Beacon Hills and intended to stay away... he was kind of feeling like it might be the former

But Stiles didn't want the quiet

He didn't want to talk, afraid that his voice would break, afraid that he would break down and crumble into peices, but .. he didn't want the quiet either

He just felt so caught, so trapped, like every way he turned was an impossibility, everything was new and disrupted and he couldn't take it all, it felt like he was drowning, with each new thing adding to him like a stone in his pocket, dragging him down deeper, making it even harder for him to breathe

He couldn't imagine all of the _newness_

All of the things he would have to do, the people he would have to meet, the things he would have to let go of and forget, the things he would have to remember but never return to

It was so much... it was just _so **much**_ and he didn't feel like he could handle it all, he felt like he was overwelmed and overweighted and dragged under beneath the depths of this .. this storm, this water, this hurricane...

He didn't even know where to start with any of it

"I know how hard this is, but I'm going to be here to help you,"

Stiles knew that Derek meant well

He knew that Derek was speaking from experience, and that experience was a valuable thing, but that didn't mean he thought that it would be enough

He didn't think _anything_ could ever be enough

"I can ... walk you through the steps, it's not as intimidating as it sounds,"

Stiles deadpanned, close to glaring at him for that

Sure Derek knew what he was going through, to a point, but that didn't soothe Stiles' pain at all

And yes, Derek had a sort of... safe house in the city they were moving to, he had a few random peices of real estate all over the country actually, but that didn't mean that Stiles thought this would be any easier at all

He wasn't sure what to think at this point

In fact, he wished he didn't have to think at all

\---

**One week ago...**

\---

"Ok, so I finally know what I am, isn't that a good thing?"

Reasonably, it really _should_ be a good thing

Stiles had been wondering for far more than a year what he was

It had become blatantly obvious over the course of the last few years that he wasn't human, no matter how many times he claimed to be or how much he joked about it, it didn't change the fact that he just... wasn't...

He had learned that for 100% fact after being taken from the Wild Hunt, the only problem was... no one knew exactly what he was

He had gone off on a four-month long soul-searching mission (ish) trying to answer that question for himself, claiming that he would be in some kind of FBI training program (he still couldn't believe how easily everyone had bought that...) but it had yeilded no results

He had- with severe reluctance- eventually decided that having power without quite knowing what it was was just too dangerous to keep around

He had to find out what he was, even if that meant doing things that he deeply, desperately didn't want to do, like telling his freinds, telling his father, going to Deaton.... all of that

He eventually had come clean, and now here he was, sitting at the end of an exam table with the vet staring down at him the way he imagined he probably stared at small animals knowing full well they were about to be put to sleep

It was an unsettling feeling, to put it mildly

"It's definitely a good thing to know this sooner than later," Deaton agreed slowly

That... sounded like the most negative positive thing EVER, and Stiles wasn't happy about it

"Ok, lay it on me then, what? Am I going to explode in three days or something? Are White Stags actually evil? Can I never be within two feet of a werewolf ever again? What? Give me all the bad news,"

"Well... no, you aren't going to explode, no, White Stag aren't evil, in fact they're extremely pure magical beings, almost on level with unicorns-"

"- _What_ -"

"And no, your species has nothing to do with getting close to werewolves,"

Stiles narrowed his eyes, biting back a surly comment and swallowing his pride and sarcasm for once before proceeding on with the next question

"Ok.... so then what's the catch? The way you're looking at me.... it looks like I just had an expiration date stamped on my head or something,"

The fact that Deaton only averted his eyes rather than actually answering told him alot

It told him that he was right

It told him that there was something terribly, terribly wrong

It told him that there was bad news on the rise

But it didn't tell him any details and that scared him more than any of it

"You live in a town with a nemeton.... a corrupted nemeton," Deaton said slowly, causing Stiles' eyebrows to raise in curiosity, practically saying "go on" without quite saying a word

"White Stags, as I said, are pure beings, similar to unicorns, but there's more to it than just that,"

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a strange looking coin and setting it in front of Stiles

"White Stags are said to be descended from the god Cernunnos, they and Morrigans are like two sides of the same coin, wile the Morrigan is a creature of death, Stags are creatures of life, though they possess opposing powers, they do, in a way, complete eachother, the Stag gives life, the Morrigan brings death, and the Stag gives life again, it's a cycle,"

"What's your point?" Lydia asked quickly, clearly not happy with the fact that she was suddenly involved in all of this

She hadn't evolved into a Morrigan yet, and according to Deaton, it may never happen, but with how advanced her powers were... they all knew it was only a matter of time

"My point is that the two of you together could _truly_ be a great, great power, if you learned how to use your abilities correctly, the two of you together could stop many threats, could defeat many enemies, could prevent many deaths.... in the hands of the wrong people your powers could bring chaos and destruction, but I trust that in your hands they will instead bring protection and life,"

"So why are you saying all of this like you're trying to break the news of a terminal illness?" Stiles frowned in annoyance

"Because that power can only be used for good under _normal_ circumstances, not... _these_ circumstances,"

"Could you try giving a straight answer for once?"

Now Stiles was starting to get angry, beyond the point of frustration and just bordering on furious

He wanted to know what he was in for

He wanted to stop being teased and taunted- wich was exactly the way it felt

"Because you live in a town with a corrupted nemeton, your usually light powers have been ... twisted, corrupted, they're becoming dangerous, and the more you grow into them, Stiles, the more dangerous they will become, it's like you're waiting for an atomic bomb to go off, and being here with Lydia.... if she were to become a Morrigan here, the destruction I mentioned earlier would _surely_ come to pass, a nemeton as dark as this one would corrupt you both the first moment it could, it's already been working at it slowly, feeding off of your powers, but because Stiles' have been manifesting so slowly it's been mostly controlled until now-"

" _This_ is mostly controlled!? Crazy Alphas, darachs, mad scientists, the Wild freaking Hunt- ... this is all CONTROLLED!?"

"With a nemeton this dark and powerfull, feeding off of a fledgling Stag and a to-be Morrigan? Yes, it is, now you understand why I'm saying that this could get much, much worse, if you stay here then sooner or later the nemeton will not only grow it's own power past the point of being able to stop it, but it will corrupt all of the light in your power Stiles, and you will be..."

"What?" Stiles snapped

"I'll be what!?"

"A Dark Stag, they're exceedingly rare, even moreso than white ones, but they are _incredibly_ dangerous,"

"Define 'incredibly',"

"The Wild Hunt is afraid of them, they would never go near a town with a Dark Stag, but in this case, that isn't a good thing,"

Stiles swallowed tightly, biting the inside of his cheek and feeling his fingers twitch

He wanted to say something, to do something, but he just... wasn't sure what.....

"And banshees make all of that worse?" Lydia asked quietly

"Banshees make it _much_ worse, if you become a Morrigan and Stiles becomes a Dark Stag, your powers will feed off of eachother in an endless cycle, but that cycle that was once populated with life... it will be only a cycle of death, death and destruction, Morrigan already have a touch of darkness to their powers, but coupled with a Dark Stag? You wouldn't be able to control it Lydia, _it_ would control _you_ ,"

The room was silent and still

No one knew what to say or do

Everyone was just... silent

The words hung so heavily in the air, like a minefeild just waiting to go off

It was Derek who finally summoned enough courage to say something

"So what do we do? How do we stop this from happening?"

Deaton had that look to him again, that "I'm sorry I have to kill you now" look that had only breifly faded before into something more contemplative

"I'm afraid.... the only real solution is to no longer be around the nemeton,"

"Ok, so how do we destroy it?" Stiles asked immediately

But Deaton's face only became more grim

"It isn't the nemeton that has to leave Stiles..... it's you,"

\---

**Present day...**

\---

Lydia had it easier, in Stiles' opinion

She had already been planning to go to college out of state, already planning on leaving, and with Lydia, it wasn't like she could _never go back_

But Stiles...

_"The more time you spend here, the greater the chance that the nemeton will get stronger, the greater the chance that your powers will grow even more corrupted, there is no such thing as a safe amount of time to be here, as long as you're near the nemeton, no matter for what amount of time, or how much time has passed, that risk will be there, and the older you get, the more your power grows, the more dangerous that risk becomes,"_

He shifted in bed, staring up at the ceiling and heaving a low, quiet sigh, his fingers twitching and his jaw clenching in frustration

Derek shifted closer, wrapping his arms around the stag and burying his face in Stiles' shoulder

Be it to comfort Stiles or himself, the Stag wasn't entirely sure, but he found his fingers moving up to trail through his lover's dark hair anyway

Be it to sooth Derek or himself, the Stag wasn't entirely sure

"How did you do it?" he finally asked, his voice feeling rough and grainy, having been unused in his throat for the majority of the day

"How did.... how do you KEEP doing it?"

"It gets easier each time,"

Stiles could believe that, it made sense

"But it never stops being hard,"

The slightly smaller man glanced up towards Derek's face, moderately annoyed that it was currently too deeply buried in his shoulder to see much of- if anything at all

"The first time .. it felt impossible, but that was because everything we had in Beacon Hills was gone, we didn't have our house, we didn't have our family, we didn't have anything there anymore but ashes, we.... had to rebuild regardless and we weren't leaving as much behind as you are,"

The incidents _were_ fundamentally different

Wile Derek had left nothing behind but ashes and memories, Stiles was leaving bits and peices of his soul, in the walls of a still-standing house that wasn't his, in the footprints in the ground outside that would fade with rain, in the coffin buried six feet under with his mother's body...

He could feel his eyes welling up with tears, his fingers curling a little bit harder into Derek's hair, resisting the urge to break down and sob

"Do you ever.. stop missing it?"

It was a stupid question, but it was one that he felt he needed to ask anyway

"Completely? No.... not completely, it gets easier, and the missing, the ache... it does dull out a little, sometimes it fades enough that you can go days without noticing it, but it never stops being there,"

Stiles fell quiet again, exhaling slowly, like that would somehow ease the pain in his chest as he forced his fingers to loosen a little, no longer quite a death grip on his lover's hair

"And here I thought everybody going off to college would be the hardest loss for me to deal with right about now," he said with a long sigh

Derek's lips twitched up into a smirk, eyes brightening just a little

"We won't be that far away you know, you'll still see everyone, there's no telling how many of them will even go back to Beacon Hills in the end anyhow, Lydia won't,"

"Yeah but Lydia is probably going to move to New York or Washington or something and be a big name fancy scientist right?"

"You never know, California has some good science programs," Derek shrugged back

"I guess,"

It didn't matter, he was more sure of Lydia keeping in contact than anyone else actually, but it ... it still hurt

It still _burned_ like flames licking at his skin and swallowing him up

"I just.... this feels like the end,"

The end of everything he's known so far

The end of his life, the end of his pack, the end of ... all of it

"It isn't the end," Derek promised, leaning closer, cupping his face and pressing a kiss slowly, firmly against Stiles' lips, letting it linger until Stiles had begun to relax, melting into the contact, just like he always did

"It's the beginning,"


End file.
